


Desires

by WolfAndHound_Archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: First War with Voldemort, Sex, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-06
Updated: 2016-02-06
Packaged: 2018-05-18 14:42:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5932075
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WolfAndHound_Archivist/pseuds/WolfAndHound_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Desires that don't match</p>
            </blockquote>





	Desires

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Lassenia, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Wolf and Hound](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Wolf_and_Hound), which was created to make stories posted to the Sirius_Black_and_Remus_Lupin Yahoo! mailing list easier to find. However, even though I still love the fandom, I am no longer active in it and do not have the time to maintain it. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in December 2015. I posted an announcement with Open Doors, but we may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on the [Wolf and Hound collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/wolfandhound/profile).

It feels so good to fuck.

Making love's too romantic, not my style. Sex is too casual and friendly, innocent. Shagging's just fleeting. But fucking... Something deep and trusting and close-knit and it feels good to be pushed down and spread out and practically ripped in two by his size and ferocity.

Oh, yes, it feels so good. Not like the far-too-tender time back when we were thirteen, desperate experimental young virgins who decided to make love together. A time which was sweet, but not lasting. Making love didn't keep me with him when he played that... prank... later that year. And it doesn't feel like the casual sex he'd tried to use to make up with me. Mere sex wouldn't throw me back in his arms. We turned to others for relief, and the lustful shags were never fulfilling either, even when we decided to shag each other. Quick, lustful, not enough. Just a shag.

Last year, our fifth, he finally found what I wanted. He pushed me facedown and fucked me. I'd had him before- I knew his size could cause discomfort, and yet I've never felt how powerful he was. Foreplay was quick, if you could call it that. He just spread my legs, rubbed on some lube, and thrust as much of me as he could on the first go. It wasn't quick like our shagging, or too casual, or too sweet. It was perfect.

I haven't kept my hands off him since. I made him my mate during that first wonderful time and we haven't stopped unless necessary.

I don't love him. I love his cock. I need it, crave it, miss it when I'm not fucking or sucking it. He fucks my mouth like he fucks my ass. I've always loved his taste- God I love to fuck him.

He's fucking me right now, actually. I'm on my hands and knees, legs spread, and he's kneeling behind me and thrusting as hard as he can. I feel the way he moves inside me and I wish that he'd never come or get tired and just keep moving like that, not stopping. But all good things end too soon, and he comes again, crying for me and collapsing on top of my back. He starts panting and whispering he loves me.

He always says that. I wish he'd realize that he's just sex. Damned good sex. I will never love him back. He pulls out slowly, and already I can feel the pain of his loss. Before he can say anything I flip him on his back and suck him into my mouth, lavishing the much beloved organ with kisses.

He leans back, sighing. I think he knows I can't get enough of it, but he seems to think I can't get enough of him. He likes thinking that, I suppose, because he never understands when I tell him otherwise.

"Kiss me like that," he groans as I kiss the tip, all tongue and lips and raw need for it.

I pause for a second to reply, "I am kissing you."

"Not there. Kiss me." He pulled me off, holding my chin in his palm.

"No. Let me go back."

"Don't you get sick of it, Moony? All we ever do is fuck, we don't curl up together and just sleep, or date, or bother with foreplay, or kiss, or even hold hands. All it is we do is just the same damned thing every night.

"Do you remember back when we were thirteen? How we'd spend hours just caressing, because we were in love?"

I didn't bother to correct him. I went back to sucking.

"I do. And I miss it. I miss how we'd just lie around and smile at each other after we were both spent and sated, and how we'd take turns... I'm always the butch now, and I remember it used to be amazing when you'd take top. Why don't you do that anymore, Moony?"

Why should I answer? He wouldn't understand that I don't love him, never have loved him, I just need him.

"I always kinda hoped... They saw werewolves mate for life. And... God, I wanted us to mate, Moony, I feel too much to let you go."

He pushes me off him again. "Quit it!" I snarl, nuzzling him.

"This is important, Remus, stop playing around with me!" He scoots up on the bed, grabbing a pillow to cover himself from me.

"I just- I'm sick of it always being you who does that. When is it my turn again? It hasn't been my turn to take bottom since October fourth year! I miss you, Moony. And watching you react so much... It's not helping me any."

It hurts when he's not inside. It hurts and I want him now.

"Do you- do you remember the last time we kissed, Remus?"

I don't care. I don't want to kiss you, just that cock...

"It was..." He swallows dryly, choking back sobs. It doesn't work, the tears fall and his voice cracks. "It was right before that moon, three years ago, when I... You know, with Snape... But I can't remember what it felt like anymore, Moony, and that scares me because I'm starting to think I'll never feel it again."

You won't.

"I'm starting to think... I think you don't really love me. You've never loved me. And I- I can't keep up that kind of relationship, Remus, I can't keep loving you like that."

I don't care if you love me. Just fuck me. That's all I want from you anyway.

"Do you?"

"Do I what?"

"Do you love me?"

"Of course not."

He looks shocked. Maybe he'd been hoping he was wrong. Maybe he thought I'd lie to him. Whatever he'd thought, it wasn't blatant honesty.

He continues staring for a moment, then he finally nods. He crawls out of the covers.

"Where are you going?"

He doesn't answer this time. He just looks back, longingly.

"Don't you do this, Sirius!"

He pulls back his own bed covers and climbs in, drawing the curtains. "Sirius! Get back here and fuck me!"

No response.

I'm crying. Not because I love him, but because I want him back. I can't stand us apart, I just can't.

I need him.

He's my mate.

I remember the moons. The wolf is in control on them, but I'm still there, a soft whisper in the back of the wolf's mind. I know what Sirius longs for from the moons.

The wolf loves him. His Padfoot. And so many moons he nudges Padfoot away from the rest of the pack and just walks along side him, tails wagging and the both of them content to just lie down under the stars or rub muzzles. They communicate. They love each other merely by being together for that one night every twenty eight days. Yes, the wolf loves Padfoot dearly, and Padfoot loves the wolf. Sirius loves those times.

I hate those times. Sirius won't fuck me for over a day after each one, he says he wants me to just act like I do on the moons more often. But I don't. Because it's not what I want.

I can hear him sobbing, almost silent, behind the closed curtains of his bed.

"Sirius?" I beg, wanting him back. "Sirius, if you really love me, come back."

He pulls apart the curtains at that. "But this isn't love, Remus!"

"It's what I want, Sirius."

He nods, understanding. He comes back, and I roll on my stomach to give him access.

"This is the only way you'll let me love you, isn't it?" he says as he puts his hands on the insides of my thighs, pulling them apart gently.

"Yes."

He doesn't say anything else as he rubs against me. I breath in, anticipating. He doesn't give up at the last second like I expected, he trudges forward with that same ferocity, causing me to moan as I exhale.

He keeps pushing forward for a while, not bothering to pull out, and I can't stop whimpering as he does. He's large, but not so long I can't hold all of him- barely though- so soon he's fully sheathed. I rock back against him, wanting him to move.

He scolds me, pins my hips so they're immobile, and begins to pull out. Before he leaves, he pushes back in harder than before, and I can't help but groan at the pleasure he brings as I envelope him.

"This is when I love you back, Sirius. But only now," I tell him. He pulls back for another thrust.

"It wasn't always like this, Remus."

"No," I agree. "It wasn't. This is so much better."

He strokes that spot inside me that always drives me crazy, but his hands stop me from bucking up. "Please, Sirius!" I beg, needing to react.

"This is a compromise, Remus."

"I don't want a compromise! I just want to- ohh yeah, Padfoot, that's it..." I moan as he brushes it again.

"Live with it. If you can't even top me once in a while, Remus, then I can force you to be lacking sexually too. But I want to please you, and this... God Remus, just kiss me once in a while, I can't do this!"

But he could. Very very well.

This is better. This is so much better.

He digs deeper inside of me, threatening to break past my limit. I feel myself become a whimpering mass beneath him, and he keeps thrusting so fucking hard.

I come first, and he stops. He pulls out quickly, quicker than he flung himself in, and I don't want it to end.

"Sirius..." I panted, exhausted from trying to fight him so I could react.

He moves to one side, staring at me with a new emotion. "I don't enjoy just going at it. It doesn't excite me at all, and I've gotten more pleasure from masturbation, Remus. I just think you should know that."

No, Sirius, that was the best time yet, do it again, keep me from you...

I recognized the emotion then. He saves it for people he can't stand. "Sirius...?"

He turns over. I reach for his shoulder, but he shrugs me off. He looks back at me when he does it, and he rolls so he can spoon me.

That look is still there. That look of sheer hatred and spite. "Sirius, what's wrong?"

He says nothing, just rubs his head into the nape of my neck and starts to snore.

I guess sleeping's all I can do in a situation like that...

I feel the wet streaks against my neck as I start to drift off myself.

I wonder why he hates me...


End file.
